Shabbat Sh’mot 5775: Reknitting a Frayed Social Fabric

[Delivered at Minyan Maat, January 10, 2015

This is a difficult Shabbat. In addition to the painful individual losses in our community, we are in shock and mourning over the dreadful attacks in Paris this week, first at the offices of Charlie Hebdo and then at the Hyper Casher supermarket. There is a sense of the unraveling of civil society around the world, and a need to reassert the values of freedom and respect for differences in open democratic countries. I want to give this community some time to discuss these painful and confusing times, but first, would like to frame the conversation through words of Torah.

Last year I spoke here on Shabbat VaYishlahabout sibling rivalries which, beginning with the evil crime of Cain in murdering his brother Abel, set the tone and perhaps the task of the Torah.

This evil question is not Cain’s alone. Throughout Bereshit sibling relationships drive the narrative—brothers hate brothers, sisters rival one another, brothers such as Laben toward Rebecca, and then Shimon and Levi with Dina treat their sisters as chattel. Neither are sisters always protective of their siblings, as Amy Kalmanofsky shows in her book, Dangerous Sisters of the Hebrew Bible.They may begin as ideal sisters, but can quickly turn dangerous, undermining the patriarchy of their fathers and brothers.

So, the book of beginnings opens with an evil act and an open question—Am I my brother’s keeper? For most of the book we’d have to say that the answer is no. No sibling is an effective guardian of his brothers and sisters. Then, in Judah’s beautiful speech in Vayyigash, the spell is broken. Finally we have a brother willing to sacrifice for his siblings. Take me as your slave, he tells Joseph, and let the boy go home to his father. At this moment, Cain’s still open question is answered—Judah says yes, I am my brother’s keeper. And at this moment, Joseph can finally reveal himself to them, אני יוסף אחיכם,I am your brother Joseph. He becomes a guardian of his siblings and their families, and he will also entrust them as hisshomrim—the guardians of his own bones.

For all of the importance of the parent-child relationship in the Torah, sibling relations give these narratives even greater energy, both positive and negative. Perhaps this reflects the lived experiences of farming families, where there will always be competition between siblings over inheritance of the land. Or perhaps these stories mirror—consciously or not—the national narrative of Israel, with the tribes in contention for politicial, spiritual and financial dominance. Maybe these stories are just about ordinary struggles for the affection and support of a parent. Whatever the original purpose of these tales, we may discern the Torah’s meta-message: Though the default posture of siblings is to be in rivalry, self-restraint is essential sothat families, communities and nations can flourish. And it is between siblings that the earliest work of overcoming jealousy and becoming guardians for one another is accomplished. When siblings are in harmony, the divine presence is welcomed, and great blessings can be realized.

However, Genesis does provide a second model of sibling relationships, this one harmonious but in a much darker sense. In Shimon and Levi we have two brothers who work well together, bonded as they are in violent rage towards others. Jacob recognizes their bond, saying ארור אפם כי עז, cursed be their anger, so fierce, that they have killed a man. He says, may I not be part of their pact,בְּסֹדָם אַל תָּבֹא נַפְשִׁי, [perhaps playing on the word for Sodom—he is accusing them of being like the violent and angry men of Sodom]. Tragically, we have seen this deadly dynamic of brothers united in hatred and violent rage—in Boston at the Marathon, and then this week in Paris [and also in a case reported this morning from Chicago of a man arrested with his younger brother and sister en route to join ISIS in Syria].

Sibling harmony is not inherently beneficial, but in this week’s Parashah, we find an example of three siblings whose cause is freedom, and justice, and devotion. In Miriam, Aaron and Moses, the Torah presents a triumvirate that can overcome all barriers, at least until their own relationship breaks down in chapter 12 of Numbers.

Parshat Shmot sets the stage for the emergence of Israel as a nation, but it begins on the micro level with a single family of three children. As with all hero literature, the parents are mostly hidden. We don’t even learn the names of Amram and Yocheved this week. They are just a man and a woman from the tribe of Levi and won’t be named until a genealogical list is inserted into the narrative next week. No, it is not the parents but rather the three siblings who will function as the essential unit of redemption, and it all begins with Miriam, the first of the three to be named. It is her audacity that alerts us to the power of this family.

According to the Midrash, Miriam was responsible for her brother’s birth, arguing with her father to defy Pharaoh’s decree and have another child. But even according to the Torah text, Miriam saves her brother’s life. When Moses can no longer be hidden, and his mother packs the boy into his little ark, Miriam follows, standing at a distance, and then swooping in to guide Pharaoh’s daughter in raising the child:

Many Midrashim examine this text. Some say that Miriam was mostly interested in seeing her own prophecies fulfilled. Her mother, they say, had smacked her on the head and screamed, What of your prophecy now? You convinced us to remarry and to have this son, and now look! By this reading Miriam just wanted to prove she was right. But there is a much broader and more generous stream of interpretation that says that she lovingly waited to protect her brother.

Mishnah Sotah (full texts cited below) says that because Miriam waited briefly (sha’ah ahat) for her brother, she merited that the whole people of Israel would wait 7 days for her in the wilderness:

The two Talmuds, Yerushalmi and Bavli, both read the text allegorically to refer to the Shekhinah, which likewise waits for Israel: א“ר יצחק: פסוק זה כולו על שם שכינה נאמר. The Zohar sees this text as a hint of the alienation between Malkhut and Tiferet, and the salvific power of compassion to overcome judgment, as seen by the daughter of Pharaoh becoming overwhelmed by mercy.

But at its source, the story of Miriam is one of a sister watching out for her brother, and the idea that her faithfulness is recognized and rewarded, even when she will later fall short. Moses is nothing without his older sister, who makes sure he is safe. Likewise, the Torah tells us that it is his brother who will enable Moses to become a leader and a redeemer.

Chapter 4 of Exodus gives us the remarkable negotiation between God and Moses, with Moses protesting that he is incapable of fulfilling the divine command to confront Pharaoh, and God seeking to convince him with magic tricks—the stick turning into the snake, the leprous arm being healed, and the prediction that Moses will be able to turn the Nile to blood. None of this satisfies Moses—send someone else! Finally, God says, fine, your brother Aaron can help you out. He’s coming toward you, and he will see you and rejoice in his heart. The commentator Kli Y’kar understands the apointment of Aaron as God’s response to Moses—I will send whom I will send—you and your brother. This apparently satisfies Moses, because he never again hesitates in his leadership.

Note the Torah’s emphasis on the word וְרָאֲךָ, he will see you. Aaron really sees his brother. Not with envy or with dismay, but with compassion, support, and joy. The sages say that because Aaron was able to rejoice for his brother and to come to his assistance, he was rewarded with the placement of the divine name over his heart:

תלמוד בבלי מסכת שבת דף קלט עמוד א

ואמר רבי מלאי: בשכר וראך ושמח בלבו זכה לחשן המשפט על לבו.

When Aaron sees his kid brother and feels not envy but concern, and provides not only support but celebration, then Aaron is blessed to carry the name of God and the gemstones of the tribes of Israel beside his heart. His heart beats in harmony with the life of God and with the lives of his people—he is a true guardian. His joyous love will give Moses the courage to confront Pharaoh, to speak to his people, and even to argue with God at the end of our portion. Moses is never alone—his siblings have his back.

Together with his protective brother and sister, Moses will be able to become our rabbi—sibling support gives him the courage and the wisdom to succeed. Their love will sustain him through all of the challenges ahead, and it is only in chapter 12 of Numbers, in P. Beha‘alotekha, when Miriam and Aaron gang up against Moses, that he truly falters. The esuing parashiot—Shlah, Korah, Hukkat, Balak and Pinha—are the Torah’s nadir. Moses will pray for Miriam, אל נא רפא נא לה, and he will defend Aaron, ומה אהרן כי תלינו עליו, but their relationship never again seems whole, and the nation suffers as a result.

We often assume that children resemble their parents [as Andrew Solomon brilliantly explains and undermines in his book, Far from the Tree]. But siblings are immediately recognized and even celebrated for their differences. They have much in common but are expected to go in different directions in life. What is true of biological siblings is also true of broader groups. A society that respects different identities and cultivates mutual support despite these differences is one which will flourish. A zero sum society in which one group’s blessing is another group’s curse is the path back to Cain and chaos. And I fear very much that around the world, in America, in Israel, and in Europe, the coalition concept of democratic societies that celebrate difference, that protect minority rights and that depend on religion to simultaenously define differences and create common ground, is unraveling.

All of us closely watched the horrible events in Paris, with the attack first on the office of Charlie Hebdo, and then on the Hyper Casher kosher supermarket in Porte de Vincennes. The first concerns are as always to capture the criminals, to save lives of the injured, to comfort the bereaved, and to bring those responsible to justice, as President Francois Hollande indicated in his statement, which identified the attack on Hyper Casher as an “obviously anti-Semitic act.” But we cannot neglect the larger picture, which is the unraveling of society. In Australia we saw the great efforts to prevent a backlash against Muslims, as indeed happened here in NY after 9/11. But we should not be naive to think that a few gatherings of well meaning individuals will assuage the fear, distrust, anger and even violent hatred that are breaking out. I’d like to invite conversation now about strategies to reknit the frayed fabric of democratic societies in the face of such violent hatred…